


Blonde Eternity

by Dark_Destrine



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Rough Sex, Sex, Young Tauriel, dont read if you dont like sex - i got carried away sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Destrine/pseuds/Dark_Destrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here you are, my blonde eternity, sleeping like a giant next to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

An Elfling Obsession ~

_Here you are, my blonde eternity, sleeping like a giant next to me. You stir in you dreams, muttering words I did not hear. So, turning, you stretch your arm near to mine. Kissing your porcelain hand, I am certain I am in love._

_Where my breasts will all too soon begin, your hand slips snake-like to caress my soft skin. You, eighty times my age and more, I can not help but smile. Like you are young again and I am not a child. Still I, your lover, will not seek to question why. It is, it is, quite natural in our eyes._

* * *

 

The Elvenking’s guards and his son, Legolas, found a young elf-child wandering through Greenwood. With green eyes and long, red-hair cascading the waif, she said she had no name and nor did she know her age, but she was adequately educated in Westron and Sindarin. After some scrutinizing, they estimated her to be -- at the most -- 60 years old; being equivalent to the size of an adolescent mortal. It had been an age since a child had walked the Forest and halls of Mirkwood, and so the Woodelves saw it incumbent to take her in, as one their own of course.

 _‘Tauriel. We shall name her Tauriel’_ \- Legolas apprised his kin - _‘Daughter of the Forest’_

The elfling had not yet met the King of Mirkwood, but she had already saw him with her prying green eyes, and it was then an obsession began to flourish. The first time she laid eyes on him, Tauriel hid behind pillars and trunks of the emerging trees and watched in awe as the majestic King strolled through _his_ halls. He would walk with his hands clasped behind his back. He was usually attired in a long silver cloak that matched the hair flowing over his broad shoulders, and he wore a crown curving aback his head.

 _‘Thranduil’_ \- she would whisper in the hopes that he would hear, but he never did.

Despite watching him from a great distance, the young elf could see that he was over flowing with dominance. And even if she only caught a glimpse of their superior, the young Tauriel would giggle and clap her hands with delight. Valar only knows what the effects would be once the introductions were made. The naive elfling held a fascination over the King. And, although she was unsure of what, the juvenile elf knew that she desired _something_ from him - _something_ that only he can fulfil her satisfaction with.

 _‘Legolas?‘_ \- she called, in a sing-song voice.

The prince, equally as handsome as his father, was sitting at his workstation assembling arrows. He froze in his actions, lifting only his blue eyes and found the immature elf pressed up against his desk. Sighing, he returned his gaze to carry on with his task. “Yes, Tauriel, what is it?”

“Well,” she pressed her hands down onto the desk and leant her weight onto them, lifting her feet off the ground. “ _I_ was wondering,” the elfling started to kick into the counter.

“Stop that,” the prince demanded.

Huffing, she pushed herself back from the worktop and continued with her enquiry, “I was _**wondering**_ if Thranduil-”

Legolas’ head snapped up and he frowned at the young elf, forcing her to cut her sentence short. “Thranduil?” he questions.

“Yes, Thranduil - your father?” Tauriel raised her eyebrows in concern, wondering how it was possible for the blonde prince to forget who _Thranduil_ was.

“It’s, _‘my Lord,’”_ he lowered his head to persist with his arrow making.

She rolled her emerald eyes at him, “alright, then. I was wondering if _your Lord-_ ”

Yet again, she was cut off by the prince who exhaled an exasperated sigh. He slammed his tools into the wooden surface and glared up at the red-head. “No. He is _your_ Lord - _your_ king,” he tells her, crossly.

“But, how is he _my Lord?_ I haven’t even met him yet,”she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Speaking of which; when _can_ I meet him?” she added on quickly, trying to stifle a smile.

“Soon. Now, what was your initial enquiry?” he said with an unconcerned tone in his voice. Legolas rose from his seat and made way to exit the workroom.

“For the last time - and please don’t interrupt me - I was wondering if _my Lord_ will accept my request for betrothal?” she followed him out of the room and into the vast space of the Mirkwood halls that never ceased to fascinate her.

“Betrothal?” suddenly interested, the prince looked down at her with a raised eyebrow as they walked together. The elfling innocently nodded back at the blonde. “Whom to?”

“Well, to him, of course,” she pictured her young self being wed to the king and, after trying to hold back, Tauriel beamed a great smile - forming the most darling dimples in her freckled cheeks.

Legolas reminded himself that she was only an elf-child, who still had yet more to learn, and chuckled at her illusory idea. “I thought you hadn’t met him, yet?”

“I haven’t,“ she scowled, and felt herself blush a deep shade of red as Legolas laughed at her.

“Then how…” the prince halted in his footsteps and turned on his heels to face her. “Tauriel, what have you done?” he demanded. Afraid of the ridiculous answer he was going to hear, he regretted asking her immediately.

She started to giggle. “I sent him a letter with Master Galion. Only, Thran- sorry... _my Lord_ has not yet replied,” her smile faded into a sulky pout.

“A letter!?” Alarmed, a wide-eyed Legolas bolted down the halls on a mission to find the butler. “Stay right where you are! I must stop him!” the prince called out, as he sprinted soundlessly into the distance, soon disappearing round a corner.

“Stop who?” Tauriel heard the deep, sensual voice coming from behind her. Upon hearing it, it sent a carnal jolt through her body. She slowly turned and discovered  _him;_ standing and staring in the direction which his son ran off in to. As he glanced down at her, with his piercing blue eyes penetrating hers, shivers started to shoot down the immature elf‘s spine. After finding no words to respond to her King, he turned his back and proceeded to walk away.

“Thranduil!” she cursed herself and slapped a hand across her mouth to prevent any more words from forcing their way out. He didn’t so much as turn around when he heard her; he only glanced over his shoulder, which enticed the elfling even more. She pranced after him as he so elegantly sauntered down _his_ domain.

“Forgive me, my Lord! I meant to say _‘my Lord’_ ”, she babbled nervously at his side once she caught up with him. Still, he does not look at her.

 _Please, just speak with me_ \- she begged him in her mind. 

“Umm… my Lord? Did y-”

“Your name, child?” he rudely interrupted. But Tauriel did not care for that. In fact, she almost squealed with delight when he addressed her, _noticed_  her.

“T-t-tauriel?” she stammered and swallowed thickly, still finding it hard to believe that she was finally speaking with her obsession. He smirked and a puff of amusement flared out of his nostrils. His demeanour, his voice, his _presence --_ his _everything--_ made the elfling weak at the knees. She looked around her suspiciously as he picked up his pace. They were most definitely alone, and so she bounced and skipped beside him, eyes wide in wonder. “Did you receive my letter?” she asked enthusiastically.

“Hmm,“ he quirked an eyebrow and looked down at her, with only his adamantine blue eyes, before averting his gaze ahead. “And, what is your age?”

“Sixty!” she chirped with a little spin. “No, seventy. Eighty! Ninety?” she rhymed off numbers after receiving no acknowledgement; assumed he did not like little elflings. She diverted her attention to his arms, mesmerized by their muscles protruding from under the silver sleeves. Tauriel felt a _tingling_ sensation in the pit of her belly as she imagined the King’s arms wrapped around her slender body while embracing her. Noticing the change in her breathing he glanced down at her with a throaty chuckle, which made her pause in her tracks. As he left her behind, Thranduil looked back and flashed Tauriel a wickedly charming grin.　

_All in good time, little one. I know what it is you crave._

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

_I faded into the background as the party took hold. In one such whirl of lithe party-dressed energy, you disappeared, red-rimmed eyes not hidden. Hunched in your bestowed green dress, long legs; even then like anacondas in white silk_

_Alone, a wayward sapling above the tree line, I sat by you and your head took root on my shoulder. They politely pretended to understand but never listened_

_Talking so much, we had to remind ourselves of imminent Dorwinion. And, suddenly happier, you scuttled away; disguising yourself in fountains of wine_

_Ill-matched twins: I, a pate and a half taller, eighty times your age and more. Inseparable whenever we can be, for when your storm stopped, we found stars dancing in the air around our heads and in the stillness, followed them_

_Not understanding what they meant, but knowing why they shine_

 

* * *

 

His words left her vexed, and rage surged through her slender mass. No matter how delicately put, it was unambiguous that Tauriel was not worthy of his son. Not that it bothered her, for it was the King she coveted most, but she wanted to know why he thought her unworthy? She had witnessed dragon, she fought aside her kin in battle who were then slain before her eyes. She did her utmost to impress the Elvenking; embarking on missions that almost cost the elf her life. And through what she endured, the lowly Silvan elf survived as though it were no toil to her at all. Yet the King stood before her, belittling the red-head as he had done previously. _The dwarf, maybe._ But she had disallowed the forbidden bond to manifest, so that held no cause for dispute.

_'You leave the borders; influence my son-'_

“ _Your son_ has a mind of his own! I don’t recall holding a dagger to his throat!” she argued. Her head rose like the wild moon with misunderstood emerald eyes. _I stand corrected,_ her _Smugness_ accepted defeat. With a blend of grace and ire, and the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, the elf strolled over to the table and poured herself a glass of _his_ Dorwinion into _his_ goblet. The king said nothing then; just observed her audacity.

It was not the first time the King of Mirkwood found himself tied as tongues in her presence. It was a regular occurrence, the elf silencing him with her own unyielding tongue. Her bold nature is what enticed Thranduil the most; he thought her a challenge as no other would dare talk at their King like she. And so he asked her something; almost causing her to choke on his favourite wine.

_‘Tell me, Tauriel. Do you remember what it was you so craved for all those years ago?’_

She spat the wine back into the goblet and eyeballed her King. He smirked at her, and now she was the one accepting defeat. He evoked such tantalizing memories that never seemed to flee her mind. Her green eyes fell to his arms. Even after all those years, the solidness still teased her behind the silver sleeves. He encircled her once, with a cruel smile pulling at his lips, and exited his own private quarters; leaving the elf to mull in her thoughts.

After finding herself, Tauriel slammed the goblet down; its contents spraying on the table and some on her hand. _Oh, so now he remembers?_ She pursued after him, and upon entering the halls the King was nowhere to be seen. She checked to see if he had retired to his throne, but found it to be empty. After searching the wine cellar, she darted to his chamber. She paced up and down outside the door, contemplating if she should knock. Her stomach curdling, she breezed into the room and surveyed the vast space. She had only ever observed from the outside, but the elf always found herself impressed by the large bed that dominated the centre of the floor. It was a four poster, with a beautifully intricate wrought wooden frame. Her anger a distant memory, she walked over to the bed and fingered the details carved into its solid structure.

Her thoughts were suspended as the doors behind her closed. Tauriel pivoted round in alarm and found the King staring at her, intently. His ice blue eyes bored into hers as they each stood there in silence, shut off from the dwellers of Mirkwood. She considered apologizing and taking her leave, but she felt a sudden desire to stay. His hands clasped behind his back, he sauntered toward her with the most slowest of torturous steps. The she-elf bowed her head with shame. Who would dare to enter the master‘s chamber without his consent? _Forgive me, my Lord_ , she murmured into her chest. As he moved closer, each step increased her own lust instead of fear.

After what seemed like an eternity, he is there; so close she could feel his breath. While she stared at her feet, her eyes caught sight of his hand rising to her face. He lifted her chin with his fingertips, _what for?_ he asked. Tauriel gulped, swallowing the irksome lump that formed in her throat. Their gaze locked, and all she could possibly fathom was slaking her hunger for his flesh, his touch. With her eyes, she begged him to take her on his bed, to allow their bodies to merge into one before her antithesis descended like bats to divide them.

His jaw tightly clenched, his adamantine eyes roved over her lean body before they flicked back up to her emerald orbs. Overcome with shyness, elf felt her pointed ear tips turning red and broke their gaze. Thranduil’s hand turned her face toward his, pulling it close.

  _‘You have planted yourself in every nerve of mine, and now we reap the harvest of love and lust’_  

His sultry voice made her quake. Tauriel opened her mouth to respond, but no words came as she grasped for a reply. Her King loomed closer and, in turn, she leaned back as far as she could go before the bed frame thwarted her actions. His lips caught hers suddenly, drawing the she-elf back under his lustful haze. The kiss was slow yet demanding as his mouth crushed hard onto hers. She could taste his wine that still lingered; unsure of whose palate it came from. Her arousal rising, Tauriel emitted a soft whimper into her King’s mouth and he returned it with the throaty chuckle that made her weak at the knees.

Uncontrolled, her hands snaked over his muscular back until her fingers intertwined in his silver hair. They then roamed higher and traced his crown, reminding her of whose tongue was violating her mouth. As she locked her arms around his neck, Thranduil curled his own around her waist, embracing her closer. His hold was just as she imagined when she was a mere six decades old, only this exceeded her childish musings; she was now living what she so desired.

Her breathing quickened as their tongues wrapped together like silent snakes. _Take me_ , she begged between the kisses that built her pleasure. She could feel the Elvenking’s strong fingers pressing into her hips while her petite breasts pushed into his broad torso.

He pulled away, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Tauriel's lips. The she-elf gasped, catching her breath as the intense pleasure ebbed away, leaving her panting and livid. She glared up at her King, who had been watching her since denying her full pleasure. The wicked smile he gave her before was back on his cruel face; almost taunting her.

“Why did you stop?” she demanded.

Thranduil backed away toward his door, and Tauriel’s arms were left lingering in the air with a questioning gesture. He tilted his head and kept his eyes on her with a firm gaze. _All in good time,_ and then he was gone.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, got a little carried away here.... Um... The sex... So, don't read if you don't like sex. Any kind of sex. Sorry.

_As your stream of thighs part around me, the shadow of love’s wet wing protects us in our undressing, reflected endlessly in mirrors._

_Exchanging kisses as desolate as the rain unchained from black clouds, birds in the trees cry with distant nocturnal voices._

　

* * *

 

 This time, his words left Tauriel carnally aching. When was this ‘ _good time‘_ , another six centuries? Her ire rose, cursing the Elvenking as he so _harshly_ abandoned the she-elf. Not so long ago, his lips were merged with hers and then they weren’t, all at once; leaving her parched for lust.

“Tauriel. Is everything all right?” Legolas asks as she shoulders past him. She doesn’t fret over the possibility that the Prince might have saw her flee his father’s chambers. Her mind is far too occupied by the obscurity of the Elvenking’s actions. _Yes, mellon, all is well_ , she tells the perplexed blonde.

The she-elf retreats to the bed-chamber she resides in at times. There, she allows herself to mull over the incident; attracting only torturous thoughts to her mind with images of her fleshly King dominating her and bringing the red-head to the peak of satisfaction. He had shunned her for so long, rejecting the she-elf pleasure that only he could grant her. Up to now, Tauriel had patiently endured her hunger for Thranduil, and now she was unsure as to how much longer she could see this through.

Her loins were burning, tormenting the elf for what she _so_ yearned for but couldn‘t have. _Or so they thought._ She kicks off her boots and unclothes herself, underwear and all. The elf watches her reflection in the mirror as she rakes her fingers along the skin of her thighs, leaving trails of thirst, and allows her hands to wander over her naked body. She needs it, _now._ No, she needs _him_ ; her own touch will not suffice. She flounces to her wardrobe and rummages through it, searching for her longest robe.

Beset with determination, Tauriel marches through the bonds of the great hall. Clutching the green robe shut, she makes her way to the Elvenking’s throne.

“Daro! What- Miss Tauriel, I said halt!“ two guards obstruct her path; dense and inevitable as reluctant trees. But unyielding and lust ridden, Tauriel forces her way through like a wave pushing the foam.

The King is bearing a lopsided smirk as she approaches. With her train and two guards following closely behind, the she-elf maintains eye-contact with him the entire time. He _so_ arrogantly sits in a nonchalant pose, somewhat slouched and cross legged. His arms are draping lazily over the rests and, in one hand, he holds the rim of his wine goblet. Thranduil’s cruel smile unfurls further as Tauriel bravely climbs the stairs leading to his chair of power, which not even his own son dared to cross the limit of.

_There is a fire within them that only needs a touch to bring forth the flame._

“My Lord?” one of the guards call from the base of the stairs, awaiting their King to advise them in hauling the she-elf away. Stopping at the highest step, Tauriel lets the gown to fall open; captivating King Thranduil with her unconquered body. His smirk fades into sternness and his breathing comes to be more apparent as he allows his hungry eyes to rove over the slender elf‘s nakedness. He tightens his grip on the armrest to restrain himself from reaching out and _touching_ her. The guard calls for a command again. Regardless of Tauriel blocking his view, their presence now frustrates the King.

Thranduil uncrosses his legs and raises his free hand, _leave us_ , he orders the guards. As their footsteps fade away, Tauriel emits a sigh of relief; drawing the King’s fierce eyes to hers. The she-elf is trapped by his gaze, taken in by his dangerous beauty; his strong jaw line, his structured cheekbones and blazing eyes. _Are we alone?_ she breathes. He doesn’t respond. His flaring nostrils and angry glare cause a stray thought to run desperately through her mind - she is wholly regretting her approach.

As the elf raises her hands to conceal her exposed skin, Thranduil drops his wine; causing Tauriel to recoil. And within that same moment, he instantly grasps her hips and pulls her atop him to sit astride his lap. She utters a startled gasp as her face lingers so close to her King’s. _Oh,_ and his arousal is evident as it presses against the pure region of her body.

Her excitement stimulates as his hands wander up to her shoulders, pushing off her gown and leaving Tauriel in her full glory. He caresses the ridges of the she-elf’s hipbones, and gropes his way to her behind. He clutches at her flesh firmly and hoists her up, and her now heaving breasts are at his lips. He holds one in his strong hand and opens his mouth to run his tongue over the bare nipple, sending a current of shockwaves rushing to her aching core. _Please, my Lord,_ she implores. He releases her bosom, allowing her to unclasp his brooch and tear his gown open. His eyes watch her hands as they desperately fumble with his trousers, and he sighs with content when he is released from the constraints.

Tauriel’s eyes are wide with astonishment as they drink in the sight of her King’s arousal. Even as it brushes against her glans, it almost pushes her over the edge. _Do it,_ he snarls through caged teeth, digging his nails into her skin where he holds her willowy waist. She hesitates and fear flints in her eyes.

 _He_ is impatient. Thrusting upward, he squeezes hard and forces her hips down, impaling the she-elf on his full length. In turn she cries out in both pleasure and pain and buries her face into the crook of her King’s neck.

It was alien to her, feeling something so _deep_ and satisfyingly full, yet her heart races as it struggles to make sense of these new sensations. Impulsively, Tauriel begins to rise and fall and Thranduil’s low, sensual moans purring in her ear provoke her further. She grips onto the structure of his throne to stabilize herself, and rests her forehead to his.

The Elvenking’s hands grasp the she-elf’s waist to control her rhythm, pulling soft sounds from her mouth each time she settles into his lap. She bites her lip to prevent her louder moans filling the Mirkwood Halls; it was already risky enough without having to draw attention. Her breathing is thick in her throat and her heart thunders in her chest as waves of ecstasy roll through her. His jaw is clenched tight and he fixates his blue eyes to her features. She clings desperately onto his shoulders as her completion builds; each new sensation piling on top of the other. She lets herself go and rides her first wave of complete pleasure. The cascade of satisfaction begins at her groin and surges outward, and her entire being twitches in time with every pulse. As she collapses on top of her king, her heart is beating hard and ready to burst out her chest. Fulfilled, she withdraws herself and Thranduil growls at the suddenness. She is sober, but her legs think her drunk as they hold her unsteady.

The king’s anger ignites in his chest. He frowns at Tauriel as she retrieves her clothing and leaves him discontented. He watches her as she races down the path of his domain, hurriedly dressing herself before someone catches sight. He, too, conceals himself and descends his throne as his lust returned with a vengeance.

He finds the greedy she-elf in her chamber. She hadn’t even made it to the bed as she was sitting on her floor aside the entrance; blatantly exhausted from _recent events._ He observes Tauriel’s state and closes the door before crouching down in front her. She stares back at him, anticipating his next move. _Well? What is it?_ she asks. Unexpectedly, he pounces on her; lightly gripping her throat and holding her against the wall.

“You dare to deny your King his full pleasure?” he seethes, looming over her face.

She smirks and opens her mouth ready to offend him. Before the insult has a chance to roll of her tongue, the king pulls her to the ground, head first, and pins her face against the cold floor. She starts to giggle and attempts to squirm free of his hold. _You greedy, selfish whore,_ he growls deeply in her ear while tracing a finger down the middle of her back, making her shiver under his attention. He grips and kneads her buttock and promptly follows the _crease,_ putting pressure with his middle finger. She writhes again but pushes her backside _onto_ him and a desperate moan escapes her mouth, _which sounds so enticing_.

With the end of his finger still lodged inside her _there_ , he moves his chiselled thighs between hers; spreading her legs agonizingly slowly. He releases himself and replaces his finger with the tip of his member. Tossing her lustrous hair, Tauriel looks back over her shoulder and flashes him a seducing smile, “that’s not your finger… is it, my Lord?” she murmurs.

He cocks his head and sneers, all the while pushing into her dark, inviting hole. Tauriel lowers her head and exhales as she engulfs her King. He moves in and out with long, slow strokes until he assumes the she-elf is more comfortable. She starts to moan, gutturally, between laboured breaths, _you like this?_ he purrs. She responds by grinding her hips backwards, urging her King to fuck her. With that, he grabs her hips and slams himself into her tight confinements.  _Yes,_ she gasps, clenching her teeth and battering a fist in the floor. Her walls tightening around him feel exceptional. Her voice trails off as her orgasm subsides, and she continues to shudder beneath him. He follows suit; unleashes himself inside her and moans loudly as his pelvis emits lewd slapping sounds against her behind. Satisfied, he finally collapses on top of the spent she-elf.

It takes him a few moments to regain his composure. He adjusts himself while looking down at Tauriel, and smirks at her comatose state. He steps over the sprawled elf, _I love you, my Lord,_ he hears her whisper as he opens the door. _And I, you,_ he responds softly, and disappears amongst the uncorrupted inhabitants of Mirkwood.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I said underage... but she's SIXTY! I wanted to make Tauriel a little more immature and childish, but I had to keep in mind that elf children have very advanced minds.  
> Plus, I ship both these tree-shaggers so hard!
> 
> I was simply inspired by my own infatuation that I had with a highschool teacher whilst I was in primary school, which was many years ago.


End file.
